


Crushing On Your Roommate

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 11:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6193531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it came to roommates, Kate Bishop had awful luck. Junior year, Kate had hoped that her roommate wouldn’t suck quite as much as her previous three. But when Kate's new roommate, America Chavez, showed up in their dorm room the day before the first day of classes, Kate realized THIS roommate was going to be even more problematic than any of the others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crushing On Your Roommate

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few months ago... so it's technically my first smut fic. And there are a few things about it that are a little awkward, looking back, but I still think it's pretty good.

When it came to roommates, Kate Bishop had awful luck. Freshman year, her first roommate had a boyfriend. He came over several nights a week, and Kate had to hang out with some girls down the hall while they got it on late into the night. Out of exhausted desperation, Kate applied for a new roommate for her second semester, and ended up with a kleptomaniac who went from “borrowing” her clothes to stealing her jewelry and even trying to act all innocent when Kate’s laptop went missing.

Sophomore year, Kate’s roommate wasn’t all bad, except for being an intolerable morning person, which Kate was most decidedly _not_. She woke up at five in the morning every school day – seven on weekends – turned on all the lights, and blasted early-2000’s pop music for an hour while she went through her morning routine. Kate had just about had it with Kelly goddamn Clarkson when that year ended.

Junior year, Kate had hope that her roommate wouldn’t suck quite as much as her previous three. For one, she’d actually gotten to know a bit about the girl beforehand. She was a friend of a friend, or a friend of a friend of a friend, more accurately. She knew Nico Minoru, who knew Cassie Lang, who’d been Kate’s friend since high school, and Cassie said that Nico said that she was totally lacking in boyfriends, kleptomaniacal tendencies, and early-2000’s pop music.

But when Kate’s new roommate, America Chavez, showed up in their dorm room the day before the first day of classes, appropriately dressed in a red-white-and-blue top and flanked by two forty-something women, Kate realized _this_ roommate was going to be even more problematic than any of the others. She knew it from the minute she laid eyes on that gorgeous pair of impressively toned legs in those tiny cutoff short-shorts.

America Chavez was fucking _hot_.

* * *

“Just because you think your roommate’s hot doesn’t mean you’re gay, Kate,” Cassie said as she and Kate got lunch from the school cafeteria a month into classes. Kate had had plenty of time to think about – and look at, _stare_ at – America Chavez and how _exactly_ America’s fucking legs (and face, and hair, and body) made her feel. “I think you’re pretty, but I wouldn’t make out with you.”

“You have made out with me, Cassie,” Kate reminded her, grabbing a cup of Jell-O. “Remember? High school? All-night graduation party?” Kate could barely remember that party, or at least the second half of it, but if Billy Kaplan was to be believed, she and Cassie had pretty much swallowed each other whole right in the middle of the school gym. But that didn’t mean either of them were gay.

“Okay, but I wouldn’t make out with you _sober_ ,” Cassie amended. “And I wouldn’t want to date you or anything. No offense.”

“None taken.” The pair took a seat outside in the courtyard, where students were milling about on their way to and from classes. “That’s the thing, though, Cassie. Maybe I would make out with her. Sober, I mean.” Kate decided to leave the “maybe” in there, even though she was pretty sure she meant “definitely.” “Emphatically.” “In a very gay way.”

“Make out with who?” Teddy Altman’s familiar voice wafted over Kate’s shoulder as he and Billy took the two empty chairs at the table. Cassie must have texted them that she and Kate would be eating lunch there. Kate glared at her, and Cassie answered with a look that communicated something along the lines of, _What? How was I supposed to know you’d be having some sort of gay crisis today?_

“No one,” Kate said, biting into an apple and daring the boys to call her bluff.

“Well I couldn’t help but pick up on some pronouns,” Billy said, opening a pudding cup. “Finally coming into your bisexuality, then, Kate? I didn’t want to say anything before—” He stopped abruptly, and Kate caught a flash of Cassie’s elbow jutting into his side. “What?” Billy asked, all wide-eyed and innocent in a totally sincere way.

“I’m _not_ gay,” Kate said emphatically.

“I didn’t say that!” Billy said.

“He didn’t,” Teddy affirmed. “He said bi.”

Cassie turned to look at Kate. “You could be bi,” she agreed. “I didn’t think of that. Wasn’t your boyfriend last year bi? Noh-Varr?”

“Something like that,” Kate said. “But I don’t think I’ve ever been attracted to a girl before.” She paused, looked at Billy. “Have I?”

Billy only shrugged. “I thought maybe you had. That redhead in eleventh grade history?” Well, she had been pretty, but Kate had just been jealous of her hair! “And Lisa? On the swim team?” Okay, but Lisa had a really nice body, and Kate had always meant to ask her for workout tips. She’d just… never gotten around to it. “You did make out with Cassie that one time.”

“We’ve agreed that wasn’t a gay thing,” Cassie informed him. Kate would have backed her up on it, but she was too busy having some sort of early-life crisis as she remembered all the pretty girls in high school… the ones with the nice hair and the nice clothes and the nice bodies… Lisa’s legs had been shaped a little like America’s, now that she thought about it…

“Fuck,” Kate said. She didn’t even want to _look_ at Teddy’s knowing expression, but she couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye. _Been there, done that_ , it said. But Kate was _not_ like Teddy, and she wasn’t like Billy. She wasn’t gay, and she wasn’t bi. She couldn’t be; wouldn’t she have realized it by now? Besides, what were the odds of three members of their high school friend group turning out to be gay or bi?

“Hey,” Teddy said, snapping Kate out of her internal crisis, “If you need to talk about it…"

“I think I’ve done enough talking,” Kate said, holding up a hand to stop everyone’s attempts to be helpful. She just needed time to think, to get her head on straight. Or not-so-straight, as the case might be. “I just need… I need to think about it.” She looked down at the remains of her lunch, suddenly not so hungry anymore. “Teddy, you can have my Jell-O.” And with that, she stood up and left. No one tried to stop her.

* * *

Midterms came and went, and everyone in Kate’s friend group had at least enough tact to refrain from mentioning Kate’s little sexuality crisis again. Before long, finals were looming, and Kate was too busy writing term papers and cramming to even worry about America and her fucking hot legs. (It being winter hadn’t helped a bit; America had only exchanged her short-shorts for skin-hugging leggings, much to Kate’s chagrin. At least she could no longer make out the lines of America’s muscles, although she imagined they were still there, what with America going to the gym five days out of the week.)

Kate couldn’t help but notice, though, that all semester long, America hadn’t brought a single guy home. She hadn’t brought a single _anyone_ home. Maybe she did all her dating and sexing elsewhere, but some annoying part of Kate’s mind held out hope. Hope for what? That America was single? That she was gay? That she’d been pining after Kate all this time, just as Kate had (totally, absolutely _not_ ) been pining after her?

And the idea of spending another semester as America’s roommate… Kate didn’t think she could hold out any longer. The denial was ever-present; it had to be, or Kate would find herself freaking out in the shower like she had a few too many evenings, mostly after going to parties with Cassie and kissing the boys who hit on her and thinking the whole time about America’s lips and America’s mouth and America’s _fucking legs_.

Maybe she would submit an application for a new roommate. But then America would know that she had, and really, she was nice and all and Kate didn’t want to be rude or to ruin what could, if not for Kate’s annoying little crush, have been a pretty awesome friendship.

But all that went out the window the weekend before finals week.

* * *

Kate and America were each sitting on their respective beds, separated by a few feet in which a window looked out to the courtyard that spread out between all the dorm buildings. America was nose-deep in a book about politics, scrawling notes in a spiral notebook, and Kate was typing furiously at a term paper due online at midnight. America kept glancing up from her book to look at Kate, and Kate was feeling a little self-conscious about it – a feeling she didn’t get often, as she wasn’t typically a self-conscious girl – that maybe her typing was too loud or there was something in her hair or on her face. It couldn’t be something wrong with her clothes; she was just wearing a purple tank top and sweatpants.

Finally, America spoke up. “Is it just the archery that does that to your arms, or do you lift weights in your spare time?”

Kate nearly jolted out of her tiny twin bed at the sound of America’s voice, loud in the otherwise silent dorm room. “Does what to my arms?”

“All that muscle.” America gestured up and down Kate’s left arm, the one nearest to her. “I mean, I work out, you know that, but I don’t think I could get my arms to look like that if I tried. Is it the archery?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Kate said, now looking at her own arms much like America still was. “I used to work out a lot more, before college. Now it’s just two or three times a week at the gym, if anything. Aside from all the archery practice.” Kate felt somewhat bolstered by America’s… well, it had probably been a compliment, hadn’t it? She decided to bring up what had been on her mind all these months: “And you! Those legs! The only other girl I’ve known with legs like those went to the Olympic trials for swimming in high school.”

Kate couldn’t be sure, but she thought America might have blushed a little. “Oh, I play soccer. Not on the school team, but I coach during summer vacation, and there’s a club team during spring semester. But your legs aren’t bad either, princess.” America had been calling her that since she’d learned how rich Kate’s dad was. “And why aren’t you living somewhere nicer than the dorms, then, princess?” she’d asked. Kate had only rolled her eyes; she didn’t like talking about her dad.

“So are your arms,” although Kate couldn’t see them under America’s flag-patterned sweatshirt.

“Not like yours,” America replied matter-of-factly. There was a short stretch of silence, which Kate took as a cue to turn back to her paper. America had a tendency to end conversations rather abruptly. Kate was half a sentence into writing when she caught America mutter something under her breath. She strained her ears and caught a few words… wait, what? America seriously hadn’t just said, “Fuck my pussy.”

Kate shot back up into a sitting position. “What was that?” she asked, seriously thrown.

America looked alarmed when she turned to face Kate. “Nothing.”

No, that had _definitely_ been something. “I’m pretty sure I heard you say something,” she said, shutting her laptop in front of her to demonstrate how serious she was about this. America sighed, and this time she _was_ blushing, but she maintained her usual hard, no-nonsense expression.

“I said I’d like for you to hold me still with those arms while you fuck my pussy.”

Kate’s mouth fell open. America’s expression faltered. “Sorry. Didn’t mean for you to hear or anything, princess.” And speaking of fucking, Kate felt the sudden desire to mention how many times she’d gotten off to imagining America calling her “princess” in bed.

But instead, once she recovered, she said, “I wouldn’t mind if you wrapped those legs around me while I ate you out.”

America smirked, a mix between relieved and triumphant. “You ever eat out a girl before, princess?” she asked, setting aside her notebook and textbook and making her way across the three feet to Kate’s bed.

“You’d be my first,” Kate replied, trying to sound casual when in fact her entire body was buzzing. America set Kate’s laptop on the windowsill, out of the way, and backed Kate up until she had her back against the wall while America crouched over her, legs on either side of her.

“You wouldn’t be mine,” America admitted. “I hear I’m pretty good. But I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

Kate let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding as America leaned forward to close the space between them. “I’m about to kiss you, princess. You alright with that?”

“Beyond alright,” she breathed, and shut her eyes just in time for America to move that final half-inch forward until their lips met. It was soft, softer than any kiss she’d shared with Tommy or Noh-Varr. America smelled like her deodorant – a basic, fresh scent – and, surprisingly, oranges. Probably something she’d eaten earlier that day.

America coaxed Kate’s mouth open, sliding her tongue inside, and bubbles of pleasure filled Kate’s head until she could no longer think. Kate was a pretty good kisser, all her boyfriends and casual flings had said so, but this time, it took her a minute of processing what exactly was happening before she could respond in kind. America was kissing her. _America Chavez_ was kissing her, and yeah, Kate was almost definitely bi.

By the time Kate had finally managed to accept this as fact, America had moved away from Kate’s mouth to kiss her way down her neck to her shoulders. Her hands were still on either side of Kate’s body, bracing herself against the mattress. That was _not_ acceptable. Kate reached out to loop her arms around America’s waist, coaxing her forward until she was kneeling on Kate’s legs, straddling her, their torsos pressed up against each other and America’s arms now free to touch her. One buried itself in Kate’s hair at the back of her skull; the other gently brushed the hair back from Kate’s face, her thumb tracing the lines of Kate’s forehead and cheekbones.

Kate’s hands, meanwhile, remained at America’s back, sliding up the back of her sweatshirt to touch the hot skin underneath, palms flat against her spine. After several moments of just touching while America sucked on and licked Kate’s neck, Kate curled her fingers against America’s back, one moving up and the other sliding around to feel America’s stomach, and _God_ , how had she never noticed those abs?

Kate was still marveling when America lightly sunk her teeth into the base of her neck; she hissed out a breath and stretched out her neck even farther, letting her chin brush America’s hair. She brought up the hand at America’s back to bury itself in that hair, and it felt even better than she’d ever imagined; she never wanted America to wear her hair up when they did this. Assuming they did this again in the future. God, she hoped they did this again in the future.

“Can I take your shirt off?” America asked. Kate had trouble finding her voice for a minute, caught up with America’s mouth on her neck and the image of America’s mouth on her breasts. She didn’t know if she could handle it. _Shut up, Kate, you can totally handle it._ It wasn’t like she’d never had anyone’s mouth on her breasts. Just… not America’s.

“Go for it,” Kate said. “I’m wearing kind of a shitty bra though.”

“I’ve been wearing this bra for about a week,” America replied, dismissing Kate’s concern. She then straightened up to pull her shirt over her head and proceeded to do the same to Kate’s tank top. Kate took a minute to really appreciate her view of those incredible abs she’d been feeling earlier, subconsciously licking her lips as she did so. She looked up to see America looking just as appreciatively down at her, and as embarrassing as it was, it felt like her heart literally skipped a beat.

Eager, Kate unclasped her own bra and slid it off, tossing it onto the floor. America’s eyes widened, but only for a second, and then she was kissing Kate’s mouth again, and kissing her way down Kate’s neck. This time, instead of moving to kiss Kate’s shoulders, she went down farther, kissing first in between Kate’s breasts, then choosing one to focus on, pressing her mouth onto the nipple and sucking, moving her hand up to the other to produce the same stimulation with her fingers. Kate gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as pleasure rolled over her. All she could think to do was reach out with her hands and run them up and down America’s back, settling on America’s leggings-clad ass to squeeze gently. She felt America smile against her skin, which sent another shudder down her spine.

Kate started playing with the waistband of America’s leggings, using what little was left of her brainpower to contemplate the best way to go about removing them without getting in the way of the amazing things America was doing with her mouth and her hand. Of course, that brainpower just about flew out the frosted-over window when America’s teeth grazed Kate’s now rock-hard nipple. Leaving America’s leggings alone, Kate moved her hands up to desperately fumble with America’s bra clasp until it came undone and she slipped her bra down far enough to reach underneath it and feel around America’s breasts.

“I’m gonna take your sweatpants off, princess,” America mumbled against Kate’s left boob. Kate nodded vigorously.

“I am one hundred percent okay with that,” Kate managed to reply, removing America’s bra from her arms in the second before America reached for Kate’s waistband and slid her pants down her legs. She kissed Kate on the mouth again, and they stayed that way for a while, America’s hands at Kate’s waist and Kate’s hands on America’s breasts, tentatively playing with her nipples. She’d never had sex with anyone with boobs before. It was fucking nice.

One of America’s hands slid inches lower, hovering above Kate’s panty-clad mound. Kate couldn’t remember what underwear she’d put on that morning, but she hoped it wasn’t as bad as the ratty, beige bra that was currently taking up space on the already cluttered floor. “You ready?” America met her gaze. Kate nodded, removing her hands from America’s breasts to slide her own underwear down her legs.

America, meanwhile, began kissing her way down Kate’s body once more, pausing briefly at her breasts and making Kate even wetter than she already was with the way she flicked her tongue over her nipples. She slid her tongue over Kate’s stomach, sporting a slightly less impressive set of abs than America’s. A shiver went down Kate’s spine as America brought her mouth to the insides of Kate’s thighs; Kate clutched a handful of bedsheets in anticipation, bringing her other hand to once again bury itself in America’s hair.

“Oh my God,” she said when she felt America’s breath on her sex. “Fuck me, America.”

And America did. She started by flicking her tongue against Kate’s clit, making small, quick motions that worked Kate up faster than any of her previous boyfriends had ever managed. Kate’s breathing was shallow, interrupted occasionally by “America” and “Please.” After a while, America started to move her tongue in longer, slower motions. Kate removed her hand from the sheets to grab one of America’s hands, which was clutching Kate’s hip.

“A finger,” she said. America eagerly obliged, sliding a finger into Kate’s cunt. Kate gasped another “Oh God” and her hand in America’s hair tightened its grip. She rocked her hips in time with America’s finger curling inside her.

“Another,” she begged, although she quickly felt herself approaching climax. God, how long had it been? Not as long as she was used to. America pulled her finger out to slide two in, still working her tongue on Kate’s clit, moving it in circles as Kate writhed beneath her.

“Oh my God. Oh my God!” Kate felt like she was on fire. Her fingers removed themselves from America’s hair; she braced herself against America’s shoulder and, with one final “Oh my God,” rode out her orgasm on America’s fingers and tongue.

Minutes later, after a brilliant orgasm and a series of aftershocks, Kate lay back with her head on her pillow and America knelt over her. America wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grinned. “Your turn, princess.”


End file.
